


Breakfast at Grayson's

by Kitskune_Miyake



Category: Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Cereal, Gen, M/M, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Mild Language, specifically Cinnamon Toast Crunch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23457793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitskune_Miyake/pseuds/Kitskune_Miyake
Summary: "Uh, correct me if I'm wrong, but this stranger who lives in your building happened to be buying the last box of cereal that you eat. Instead of taking the cereal away and moving on with his life, he allowed you to eat the cereal with him for breakfast. And that box just so happened to give free cereal for a year." College AU, no powers, first meet, Birdflash, I guess?
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Wally West
Comments: 5
Kudos: 80





	Breakfast at Grayson's

No trip to a supermarket was complete without a waltz down the cereal aisle for the coveted Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal. Fuck Lucky Charms, those little squares were made of real magic. Wally West pushed through the crowds down the cereal aisle in search of the cereal box. They were already cleared of Honey Nut Cheerios and Cocoa Puffs. He cursed himself for waking up late; all the soccer moms and college kids had cleared most of the good cereal. He muttered to himself, "Please be there, please be there," as if the cereal gods would leave him a box.

It didn't matter if it was stupid. It worked.

He ran towards the holy box, nearly knocking over a crying four-year-old in the process. He eventually ditched the cart and full out sprinted for the last cereal box as if he were in the Olympic finals. He thrust his hand out, laying it on the box just in time–

"Yes! The last box." Fuck.

Their hands touched the box at the same time, and Wally barreled into the shelf. Boxes of Frosted Flakes and Fruit Loops came tumbling down around him. Dazed as he was, he was conscientious of the very real fact that the box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch was not in his hands. He looked up from the floor to see the other guy's smug grin as he held the precious box above his head. 

Wally popped up to his feet. The guy was just barely shorter than him, his bright blue eyes sparkling mischievously. "Um, I saw that first," Wally said, his hand outstretched for the box. The other guy was fast though, and he kept the box just barely from Wally's hand. Wally's brow quirked in frustration. This little bastard.

"Well, the cereal's in my hand, so I guess that means I got here first." The other guy's voice was light, like tinkling chimes. He couldn't be older than a college freshman. "Find your own breakfast cereal."

This little fucker. "How much do you want for the cereal? I'll buy it from you," Wally blurted out. He was running the numbers in his head. He had over-allotted money for his food bill (at the expense of gas for his car) so he could probably afford giving this little prick an extra three dollars or so. Even if he over-priced the sugary meal, he could always put back the pizza rolls and–

"But I want the cereal myself," the boy–because he really was a child–pouted teasingly. This feigned innocence was starting to get on Wally's nerves.

"Well, so do I." The tension was palpable as the two locked eyes, refusing to back down. The impish fire in the boy's blue eyes danced gleefully, like a cat playing with a trapped mouse. Wally sighed heavily internally. He did not sign up for this shit when he moved to college.

The boy ostentatiously put a finger to his temple, as if pressing a button to activate his brain. "How about a deal? We'll go 60-40 on the cereal. I'll pay sixty percent of the sticker price, and you can come over to my place to eat the cereal during breakfast.'

Wally blinked. This situation was absurd. Here he was, sitting in a pile of half-crushed cereal boxes in the middle of the supermarket with some cocksure freshman basically propositioning a meeting for every morning. He barked a laugh. Oh well, what the hell. People in Gotham sure were weird.

"Fine, I guess."

After a stern lashing by the store manager, the two tidied up their mess and paid for the cereal. When the boy flipped open his wallet to pay, he saw his driver's license. Richard Grayson, huh. Well, he certainly seemed like a Dick.

As they exited the store, Wally realized something. "By the way, my name's Wally. I, uh, I guess we should trade numbers or something. And just text me your address?"   
  
"Already done," Dick said, flourishing Wally's phone from his pocket. Wally flushed red. "Picked up your phone when you fell over, so I took the liberty of putting my name and number in your phone." Wally heard a buzz emanating from Dick. "And I texted myself so I'd have your number, so all's done. And I'm Richard Grayson, but everyone calls me Dick. You should also lock your phone with a better passcode." He walked away, leaving Wally babbling incoherently, attempting to come up with a suitable retort. 

Wally woke up his phone, praying to God that he wasn't locked out of the device. That wasn't the case. He checked his messages, seeing Dick's name at the top. He opened up the conversation and saw that Dick had sent a very familiar address.

_ Hey, we're in the same building _ , he texted in response. No immediate response. Whatever. He pocketed his phone. At least breakfast would be convenient from now on.

* * *

The next morning he knocked on Dick's door at 9:00 A.M. promptly. A moment later, the blue-eyed boy opened the door. His hair was wet, his shirt slightly damp. Probably just took a shower. "Hey," he said awkwardly, ushering in the redhead. "I'm still drying my hair, so I'll be out in a moment. Cereal's on the counter, and bowls are in the second cabinet. Just look for spoons and milk." His voice was muffled behind the door of the bathroom.

Wally stood there for a moment. He was slightly uncomfortable at the thought of eating alone in a stranger's house. His stomach growled. Well, there wasn't exactly much time to be awkward about it. He found a bowl exactly where Dick said it would be, and after a quick search he found a metal spoon to go with it. The bowl was ceramic, unlike the usual styrofoam that college kids like Wally used. Obviously Dick was much more organized and well-kept that Wally. He pulled the milk out of the well-stocked mini-fridge that was devoid of any alcohol. He had barely spoken a word to the other boy, but he felt that he knew a little about this mysterious Richard Grayson.

When Dick came out, Wally was already munching away at his cereal. He had set out a bowl and spoon for Dick on a whim. "Thanks," Dick said as he plopped into his seat. He poured out some cereal and milk and let it sit.

Wally quirked an eyebrow. "You let your cereal soak up the milk?"

Dick raised an eyebrow slightly at the comment. "Got a problem with that?"

"Yeah, it gets soggy and gross. Doesn't have the crunchy goodness of Cinnamon Toast  _ Crunch _ ."

"Sure, but at least the milk tastes like cinnamon when you drink it. I mean, cinnamon-sugar milk is the best."

Wally had nothing to say to that, so an awkward silence filled the space as Wally shoveled cereal into his mouth. He felt sharp blue eyes on him, watching him eat like a lion watching a gazelle eat grass. He eventually slowed down until Dick started eating as well.

Their first breakfast together ended without further conversation. Wally washed his bowl and spoon, figuring it was only polite, and left for class.

* * *

Although it felt like pulling teeth, Wally woke himself up a full twenty minutes before his first class at 8:00. This time Dick opened the door almost immediately. He was holding a mug of cereal.    
  
"Thank God you're finally here. Gotta talk to my professor. Don’t worry about locking up, I’ll be back later." He gestured in the general direction of the counter on his way out. “And don’t leave the milk out!” Wally walked over to the counter and found breakfast laid out. He was surprised that Dick already trusted him alone in the apartment. He could be a thief waiting for an opportunity like this. Not that he was. Instead of sitting down for a proper meal, he filled a plastic Ziploc bag with some cereal and ran out, taking a moment to pretend-lock the doors behind him, like someone was watching. The box was one-third empty.   
  
Later that day he got a text from Dick.  _ Winning box. Free cereal for a year. _ Wally let out a tuneless hum of amusement. Looks like they would have several breakfasts together to look forward to.

* * *

Wally's first class the next day was cancelled at the last moment, so he took his time going to Dick's room. Dick was already eating when Wally got there.

Determined to not make this breakfast as awkward as their first, Wally decided to initiate conversation. He noticed the sweatshirt. "So, you're also at Gotham University?"

"Yeah," Dick replied curtly. "Undecided for now." He shrugged. "What about you?"

"Molecular physics."

"You're smart."

"I guess." They returned to silence. "I actually came in on a track scholarship. Gotham wasn't even on my radar until they offered the scholarship."

"Out of state?"

"Missouri, actually."

Dick let out a low whistle after swallowing the cereal in his mouth. "You're an awfully long way from home."

"I guess," he shrugged, shoveling another mouthful of cereal away. "I mean, college is college."

"But no other university has me!" He flourished his arms dramatically, as if he were the center of attention. 

"Greatest thing since sliced bread?"

"Now you're getting it."

They returned to silence, but somehow it seemed less empty. More amicable.

* * *

Wally ended up stopping by that night. He didn't feel like ordering takeout or going to the cafeteria. Besides, if cereal was healthy for breakfast, it was perfectly healthy for dinner as well. His mother had never stopped him from doing it before, and Dick was just going to have to put up with it.

Actually, he didn't. Wally ran into Dick just as he was leaving the room. "Oh, hey," he said, giving him a once over. Dick was wearing a buttoned black shirt and black pants with a silver tie. A black jacket was in his arms. "Awfully fancy getup, isn't it?"

Dick shrugged. "I've got an event to go to, so I have to look nice. Just leave the door closed."

"No problem."

Wally prepared his cereal as usual and ate in the living room. He didn't know if Dick would mind, but it's not like he'd know anyways. He turned on the television and flipped to one of the cable shows, some police procedural drama. It was kinda lonely, but Wally was used to being alone.

_ Knock knock _ . "Dick, are you in there?" Wait, is that a girl? Was Dick Grayson, this scrawny little runt of a boy, really getting more girls than self-proclaimed womanizer Wally West?

He opened the door. "Oh." She seemed disappointed. Ouch. "You aren't Dick."

"No, I'm better," he replied automatically, a grin on his face to let her know he was joking. He leaned casually against the doorframe. "Did you need him for something? Booty call?" He looked her over. Red hair and brown eyes. Her lips were absolutely beautiful. Man, if Dick was tapping that, he was a lucky man.

"Heh, no." She seemed a little uncomfortable, her cheeks bright red. "My boyfriend wouldn't be so happy. Actually, I'm in Dick's statistics class and I missed the lesson. I'll just come back tomorrow, I guess--"

"If you have Stannard, I've already taken that class. I can help you if you want."

"No, I'll just come back tomorrow--"

"Did I make you uncomfortable with the jokes? Sorry about that. We can start over." He straightened up and offered his hand. "I'm Wally West. I live on one of the other floors, and I'm here eating Dick's cereal. Long story," he added as her eyebrow was raised in confusion. "If you still want my help, we can get cracking at some of that."

She mulled the idea over. "Sure, I guess. Megan Morse." She entered the room, careful to leave the door open. "Um, would it be alright if I call my boyfriend over. Not that I don't trust you, but..."

"You don't trust me," he offered helpfully. The blush returned. "That's probably my fault, and I don't mind at all."

She emptied her bag on the floor and spread out her papers on the coffee table. He sat next to her and picked up the textbook, starting the lesson.

"So what do you need help with?"

"Probably everything."

"Well, let's start with the basics..."

They were at it for 10 minutes before her boyfriend showed up and closed the door behind him. "Conner!" she squealed, popping up from the floor and running at him, jumping into his massive arms. He was built like a fucking tank, and he thanked his lucky stars that she had so gracefully ignored his earlier comments. This guy would have broken him like a toothpick.

"Hey, Megan." He eyed Wally suspiciously. Wally gulped nervously. "You aren't Dick."

She laid a placating hand on his massive chest. "Conner, this is Wally. He's a friend of Dick, and he's helping me with statistics."

"I could have done that," he sulked.

"You couldn't explain it well. Wally here is a pretty good teacher though."

Wally waved from the floor. "Hey, um, yeah. No problem."

Conner narrowed his eyes slightly before accepting the situation. He reclined on the couch behind Wally and started reading, or at least feigning to read. Wally and Megan resumed their lesson, albeit a bit stiffer than before. Eventually, they relaxed in each other's presence, Wally cracking jokes to the couple's amusement, Conner interjecting his own commentary or knowledge, Megan insisting that she'd make cookies for next time.

"I didn't realize there was a study party." They all turned to the door. No one heard him come in at all.

"Hey, Dick," Megan greeted cheerfully. "You're home awfully late." Wally looked behind him. Shit, it was 11. 

Dick undid his tie. "Sorry, I forgot to cancel our study meeting. Actually, this is pretty early, everything considered. I just told Bruce that I had a class at 7, so he let me leave."

"Was it that mayor's gala?" Megan asked.

"Yeah. I mean, he's nice enough, but I've got a life to consider. Usually these events finish around two in the morning, if not later. Politicians have no sympathy for little college students like me.”

Wally was about to crack a short joke, but something else caught his attention. “Rubbing elbows with politicians, are you? And how did you get into that circle?”

“Wally, don’t you know? Dick Grayson, ward of Bruce Wayne?” His stare was blank. “Well, I guess you don’t know,” Megan concluded.

“I didn’t exactly mention that when I introduced myself,” Dick explained. “Long story short, my adopted dad is probably richer than the United States. It’s kinda a big deal.”

“Ah.” He was from Missouri. He didn’t really get it at all.

* * *

Their morning rendezvous continued for weeks without a change in pattern. Their breakfasts together became all the more telling as they started spilling little bits and pieces about their lives. He now knew a little bit more about this elusive Bruce Wayne, who was basically everything Wally aspired to be--rich, famous, womanizing to a fault. He learned more about Dick’s likes and dislikes and how really dumb things like noisy birds by the window drove him crazy. They talked about the type of girls they were into, and Wally discovered that Dick had never even had a real girlfriend--which was quite a shame, considering that he was objectively a really handsome guy, no homo. The more he got to know him, the more he wanted to know, and it was really scary because no one had ever made him feel this way before.

“I dunno, Roy. I mean, I’ve never met a person so fucking interesting before.”

He heard a yawn on the other end of the phone. “Dude, it’s like two in the morning. I don’t want to hear your lovey dovey talk. I literally just got the kid to shut up.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, who said this was lovey dovey talk?”

“Uh, you did. Basically, I mean.”

“No, I didn’t say that.”

“No, you basically said it. Like, implicitly.”

“Those are two completely different things!”

“But you aren’t denying that you are in love.” Wally paused, unsure of how to retort. “I can hear your ears turning red. Okay, how about we start with like. Like the middle school ‘like’ where it’s really fucking obvious. Is that alright, princess?”

“I--I--”

“Oh my God, it’s too late to deal with this shit. Or early. I don’t even know. I’m hanging up. Hook up with him and call it a day, will you?” And without a chance for Wally to retort, Roy hung up.

* * *

Roy’s words sat heavily in Wally’s brain during breakfast. “Dude, you alright?”

“Hmm?"

“You’re taking longer than usual.” 

“No, it’s nothing.”

“Was it Babs? I’m sorry, that was really awkward and totally not what it looked like.”

“No, no, I get it.” 

He had shown up at the usual time for their Saturday morning meal, only to be greeted by a red-haired girl with a towel wrapped around her torso, hair dripping wet. All of a sudden Roy’s words clicked with Wally. He felt his blood run hot through his veins as he looked at her as she scampered to the bathroom again. In a matter of seconds, she was dressed and out of the door, refusing to make eye contact with Wally as she exited.

“You’re getting the wrong idea. We aren’t dating. She’s my childhood friend.”

“So a one night stand?”

“Hell no.” Dick gave him an unamused glare. “Why are you sulking about this? Look, she just stayed over because she was in town for some stuff.”

“That’s awfully vague,” Wally interjected. 

“You’re starting to piss me off, y’know?” Dick’s mouth twisted into a frown. “Shut up and eat your cereal.” Wally turned to his bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch with inexplicable bitterness. "Actually, fuck this. Get out."

"What?"

"I'm not in the mood to deal with this pissy toddler shit, so either tell me what's up or get out."

Wally faced an ultimatum in his steely sapphire gaze. His thoughts raced to what Roy said, what he said, what Roy said, what his heart was saying, what his brain was saying. He stood up.

"Fine then." He turned on his heels and practically stomped out the door.

* * *

It was a couple of days until he tried to go back. His thoughts were racing. Though he tried to distract himself, it was all vanity. His thoughts drifted back to that morning, to the tension in the air, to the pounding in his ears, to the burning in his chest. 

The door was locked when he got there. It hadn’t been locked ever since he met Dick Grayson.

“Hey.”  _ That’s all you got? After this long? Hey? _ “I don’t know if you’re there. But here’s this, I guess.” He took a note out of his pocket. It was notebook paper, slightly torn at the edges, but otherwise immaculate. The final draft out of an unknown number of attempts to perfectly apologize, no eraser marks. He slid it under the door.

A beat passed. He wasn’t there, apparently. As Wally started to walk away, he heard the door click behind him.

“Wow, an apology? And not a text? Color me impressed, Wallace.” It was a measured statement, perfectly cut for this moment. “‘Dear Dick…’” He winced at the younger man’s voice. “So formal, aren’t we? Why don’t you apologize to me in person? Letter’s not required.”

Wally turned, anxious to see what he looked like. Although he was wearing plaid pajama bottoms and an oversized T-shirt, he stood with a presence. He knew how to command the charisma in his body. No emotion was evident, much like his voice.

“I… I’m sorry about the other day.” He paused. No response. “How I acted was uncalled for, and I was pretty rude to that girl--”

“Barbara.”

“Right… Barbara.” His chest tightened, thinking of that girl. “Whatever is up between the two of you isn’t any of my business anyways. I wanted to just say sorry and I can leave you alone if you want.”

Time passed. Could have been seconds, could have been minutes. “Well, I accept your apology. I wasn’t that mad at you, just… whatever.” He pushed the door back, opening it up. Wally smiled ever so slightly, not sure if it was appropriate, but happy nonetheless. “Well, I’ve got a year’s worth of cereal to eat. So you should come over for breakfast again.” 

“What about dinner?” 

“If you want.” He cracked a smile. “You coming in?”

He was.

* * *

They settled back into the rhythm of breakfast and occasionally dinner. Wally was very accustomed with the kitchen, easily obtaining spoons and bowls, clearing the dishwasher, even buying milk at times. At first, it was an attempt at being a good guest. He wasn’t ever a bad guest, per se. But the extra effort seemed fitting. Even though Dick was insistent that he didn’t need to make up for anything, it seemed wrong to not do  _ something _ . Eventually, Dick gave up on the issue and simply thanked him for the little things he did.

One day, Dick put an envelope down next to him. “Dramatic much,” Wally said.

“Just open it.”

Wally complied. “That’s a key.”

“It sure is.”

“To…” 

“To here.”

Wally was shocked. “You sure?”

“I mean, you’ve been over basically every day for breakfast. Sometimes more than that.” He wasn’t wrong. Being present in this apartment was becoming a norm for Wally. Even though he never spent the night, they’d be up into the morning doing a number of things. Homework, watching movies, just talking for hours. Always with Cinnamon Toast Crunch. 

“Yeah.” Silence hung in the air. “You’re right.”

They went back to eating their cereal. The silence in the air felt different.

* * *

Months had passed since their arrangement. The holidays came and went without incident, and a new semester started. Roy was driving Wally back to Gotham. It was a mini-tradition between friends: they traveled together, using the time to catch up and just enjoy being around each other, no matter how inconvenient it was for Roy and his beat-up car. The two didn’t see each other much anymore. Roy had his baby, Wally had his molecular physics. 

“You ready for another semester?”

“Yeah, I haven’t had cereal in forever.”

“What the fuck kind of response is that?”

“You know the cereal guy?”

“Huh?”

“You told me to sleep with him?” 

“What?”

“It was like September--”

“Wait, that guy? The guy you just need to sleep with?”

“No, I do  _ not _ ,” Wally insisted.

“Don’t fucking tell me…”

“Anyways, he has a year’s worth of free cereal, and it would be such a waste to just--”

“Oh my GOOOOOOOOD!” He looked at Wally in disbelief. “That’s some bullshit.”

“Eyes on the road.” Not that they were in any danger, but he didn’t want Roy’s judgement glare. It was a powerful look, too compelling to deal with in such a tight space with nowhere to run.

Roy let out a guttural sound, roughly like a dying whale. “Wally, this is the stupidest thing you’ve done for love since high school.”

“It’s not lo--”

“It’s love!” He threw his hands up briefly, unable to contain the emotions he had. Wally thanked his lucky stars they were close to Gotham. This would have been an awful environment to deal with for several hours of driving. “What other reason would you have to go to an otherwise stranger’s house?!” 

“I mean he was the one who pushed the arrangement,” Wally said sulkily.

“That’s even worse. That means he liked you first. City people are weird, especially college kids, but not ‘let a stranger into my apartment indefinitely to eat cereal” weird. That creep had a  _ plan _ .” 

“Don’t you think that’s a little, like, presumptuous?”

“Uh, correct me if I’m wrong, but this stranger who lives in your building happened to be buying the last box of cereal that you eat. Instead of taking the cereal away and moving on with his life, he allowed you to eat the cereal with him for breakfast. And that box  _ just so happened _ to give free cereal for a year.” Roy’s words hung in the air. Wally didn’t answer. He honestly hadn’t thought of it that much. “Doesn’t that sound just… just…” 

“Like a movie?"

“No. I mean, yes. But I would have said ‘creepy.’”

Wally’s brain was racing. I mean, it wasn’t unreasonable to think that college kids shopped in the same grocery. And lived in the same complex. Was it?

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re lucky he just likes you and isn’t an axe murderer.” 

“He doesn’t… I mean not like that.”

“You’re stupid, and you need to deal with that.” His tone was softer. Less shouting, more tough-love and concern. “You’ll be all the better if you confront it head-on.”

“But I’m not--”

“No, don’t. Just accept it. Don’t think too hard, you’ll hurt yourself.”

Wally stopped talking. But he was thinking. His mind was racing miles a minute. Roy was right about a lot of stuff, usually. But… not this? Possibly? He started replaying the last few months in his head. It couldn’t… couldn’t have been staged? But why? Because he liked him? What? Since when?

He fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Roy shook Wally awake. “You need groceries to start off the semester. I’ll help you pay.”

Wally wasn’t thinking coherently yet, but he accepted the help. Dazedly, he walked with Roy into the grocery, absentmindedly letting Roy hold his hand and guide him through the grocery. He didn’t notice the stares, and Roy couldn’t care less what others thought. It was a big city, and he would be a distant memory to most people there.

They weaved their way through the grocery aisles. Roy filled up the cart with food reasonable for Wally to eat-- Pizza Rolls, single-serve microwave meals (x3 because Wally’s stomach was like a dumpster truck), tangerines, eggs, bread. Wally eventually was awake and conscious of the world around him. He continued to let Roy drag him around. No reason to do otherwise. Two dudes holding hands platonically wasn’t really a big deal.

“So skip this aisle right?” Roy’s voice cut through the daze. Wally looked up. Cereal aisle. “Nah, don’t need to be here.” His gaze lowered from the labels down the aisle. He hadn’t gotten cereal in so long.  _ Oh look, it’s Dick _ .

Wait.

Dick?

Holding a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch?

No. Not a box?

A grocery cart full of Cinnamon Toast Crunch?

“That’s a lot of fucking cereal. College kids are weird.”

“Dick?” His voice came out a lot louder than he intended. At least, it felt loud in his ears. He really hoped he was wrong, that he had the situation all wrong, that a stranger would look up and it would be awkward but otherwise alright.

Bright blue eyes, recognizable from a mile away. A placid, unreadable look suddenly morphed into something easy to read: horror. Then… guilt?

* * *

He didn’t go for breakfast. 

He didn’t eat cereal for a while.

* * *

_ We need to talk _ .

Wally looked at the text, sent hours. Still unread. Better than being left on read, but painful nonetheless. He was terrified of the conversation, but it needed to happen. A Band-Aid that needed to be ripped off. 

A ding.  _ Yeah. Come to my apartment? _

Wally didn’t bother replying. He put some a hoodie on and started walking. 

* * *

Dick stared at his phone, watching his text go to read. With no response. Cool, cool, cool. He fucked up, he totally fucked up. It felt like he was going to throw up. His living room and kitchen was sparkling clean, a side effect of anxiety begging for an outlet. He started pacing again, looking for something to clean. Maybe he’d restack the cereal in his closet.

A knock at his door. He jumped. “Hey, it’s me.” Shit, it was Wally. He didn’t expect him to show up so soon. He took a deep breath, an attempt to calm himself down. Why was he shaking? Was it noticeable? He put a hoodie on, oversized enough to hopefully hide the trembles.

He gently padded towards the door, light on his feet like a cat. He stopped, giving himself a moment to steel his nerves, establish control. He opened the door and leaned against the door. “You have a key, don’t you?” Calculated, measured. Disconnected enough to show that he was in control. Never give up control. Especially like now.

“Oh right.” He watched Wally rummage through the pockets of his sweatpants. “Right. Was in a rush.”

“You didn’t need to rush.”

“I kind of did.” 

The silence hung in the air, heavy and sluggish. The conversation had no momentum. Momentum was important. It made conversations easy. But this was not an easy conversation; there was no smooth way into it.

“Well, come on in.” He opened the door wider. Not quite wide enough for Wally to pass through without brushing by him. Wally didn’t move. “I don’t think we should have this conversation in the hall.”

“How much were you lying?” Objectively, it wasn’t a loud voice he was using, but it resounded in his ears. It pierced through the roaring in his ears, the heartbeat so violent he could hear it. 

“Wally…”

“I mean… what are the odds… how much of it was fake? Is this some kind of sick joke?”

He couldn’t respond fast enough. Words were tumbling out of Wally’s mouth faster than he could think. “I… I’m sorry…”

“Sorry?” Wally’s eyes widened. “For what?”

“A lot. Let me try to explain. Can I do that without interruptions?”

* * *

_ I first saw you during move-in day. I had my apartment moved in before, so I was watching from my window. You were moving back in, I guess? And I was just… drawn to you. _

_ I watched from my window to get a feel for your rhythm. You maintain a pretty consistent schedule. So I followed. I saw you get cereal. Couldn’t really approach you, given that you had no reason to know me.  _

_ The day at the grocery with the cereal--that wasn’t planned. Just lucky. I didn’t expect it to work, I guess. I mean, I hoped. But never expected.  _

_ I pretty quickly realized that I didn’t want our breakfast time to end. It felt… nice, I guess. Just interacting with each other, it felt like you didn’t know me. Didn’t have any expectations of me. And I didn’t want to give that up. So yeah, I lied about that. That wasn’t very cool of me.  _

_ Megan and Connor were also staged, sorta. I wanted to make sure you weren’t some scumbag. I was 98% sure you weren’t, but just in case. And that went better than I could’ve hoped, honestly.  _

_ So the setup was fake. Contrived. But our interactions were real. You got the real me, probably more than most others.  _

_ … _

_ ‘Scuse me. _

* * *

Wally needed time to process the truckload of information dumped on him. He wanted to believe Dick, but also… he didn’t have a reason to. Aside from personal bias. But instinct couldn’t be enough reason to trust someone… right? 

Before he could give a reply, Dick had disappeared into the apartment. Wally managed to catch the door before it closed. He followed the brunette into the main living area. “Wait.” Dick ignored him, continuing into the bedroom and slamming the door behind him. Wally paused at the door. For all the time he had spent in the apartment, he had never entered Dick’s bedroom. It was an inner sanctum of sorts, an uncrossable barrier. 

He stayed away from the door. “Dick…” 

“Go away.” It wasn’t anything like his voice--the confident, bright voice he had gotten accustomed to.

“You didn’t let me reply.”

“I don’t need to.”

“Yeah, I think you do.” He stepped to the door and leaned against it. His hand was far from the knob. He wanted to be closer, but letting himself in… that wasn’t something he was ready for.

“I… I’m not mad at you. I’m not mad that you lied to me. I just want to know why.”

Why. Why indeed. 

The silence continued.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Okay, now you’re a liar.” Wally was usually awful at picking out liars, but this time it was easy. “No one does all that for no reason.”

“I can’t tell you.” His voice was shaky from the other side. 

“Okay.” It wasn’t okay, not really. He let the response hold in the air, the awkwardness stifling him. “Can I speak?” No response. “Well. I thought it was weird at first. Eating breakfast with someone who stole a box of cereal out of my hands. But… it stopped being weird. I actually don’t really eat breakfast; that cereal was for mostly midnight snacks. But I’ve really come to like breakfast. Starting every day with someone who I consider a friend. And it just spiralled out from there. I’m here all the time, and even though I really like cereal, I’m getting really sick of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.” He let out a chuckle. “But I wasn’t getting sick of seeing you everyday -- multiple times a day even.”

He stopped, gently pressing his forehead against the door. “I… I don’t really understand my feelings. I don’t really think about that stuff. But I want to keep spending time with you. And… and I’m hoping you want to do the same with me, I guess.”

Time seemed to stop. Wally hadn’t really thought out these words, but saying it… sounded an awful lot like a confession. Which, I mean that didn’t feel right. But it didn’t feel wrong either. 

“I’m really fucking sick of Cinnamon Toast Crunch too.”

He laughed. He couldn’t help it. “That’s all you got?”

“It felt like something to start with.” There was a slight shuffle from the other side of the door. Wally felt the door open, and he shifted his weight so he wouldn’t fall forward into Dick’s chest. His eyes rose from Dick’s mismatched socks, up along the dark navy sweatpants, past the oversized black T-shirt. Dick’s eyes were soft, slightly puffy. Was he crying? 

“Wally West--” He stopped to sniffle a little “--from the moment I laid eyes on you, I was intrigued by you. I don’t really know what it is, but I want you to keep eating breakfast with me.”

“Just breakfast?”   


“Dinner too. Lunch, coffee, whatever you’ve got time for.”

“Is that a date, Dick Grayson?” 

Dick’s ears seemed to suddenly turn red. Wally also felt the temperature skyrocket. He hadn’t been with a girl in so long, and his otherwise irresistible charisma was a bit rusty. “I guess so.” He smiled. It was relaxed, tinged with something he couldn’t quite interpret. “I guess that’s a date.”

“Let’s still have breakfast tomorrow. I guess we can play the rest of it by ear?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

“I really need to be getting back to my apartment anyway--shit.”

“Shit?”

“I left my keys in my apartment. The door locks behind me.”

“Hmm. Shit, indeed. I can fix that.”

“What? What does that even mean?”

“Let me just find my lockpicking kit.”

Wally watched aghast as Dick disappeared into his room, looking for what was apparently a lockpicking kit. “You sure are an enigma.”

“That sure is a big word.” 

“That’s not very nice.”

“I’m not a nice guy.” He didn’t sound nearly as playful. He opened the door. “Well, let’s get going.” He started towards the door. 

“Actually,” Wally interjected. Dick stopped, turning slightly. “Could I spend the night? We could deal with that in the morning.”

“After breakfast?” Dick smirked.

“Yeah.”

“Not cereal though. I’m not joking, I’m really fucking sick of cinnamon.”

“What about eggs? How do you like your eggs?”

They never actually went to bed that night. Not until after breakfast. 

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, I'm gonna be completely honest with you. I wrote about half of this right before my freshman year of college started (so like 4.5 years ago). I got bored during quarantine and found it, and just started writing again. I think you can actually pinpoint the exact moment where I picked it up again. Feels like my style went to shit. Oh well. This is probably the first meaningful thing I've accomplished for myself in a few weeks, so I'll take it.
> 
> Please leave some feedback. I know it's been a while.


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